Aubrey Mitchell
Living Out of a Suitcase Moving was a natural process for my mom. Living in over six different places in a matter of 12 years meant adapting to change quickly. This wasn’t the typical “we are moving into a new neighborhood and you will have to change schools” kind of move. It was much more of a culture shock than that. My mom had only lived in America for seven years before she had to experience life in a way that most Americans never have to do. My mom, Lisa, was born in Gainesville, Texas on November 10, 1960. She was the first of five siblings. Her parents, John and Gayle Morris, had happily wed the year before. It was decided that Grandma Gayle‘s full time job was to stay at home to raise the kids and take care of house duties when she delivered two more babies. Lana was born in 1962, and then Laura arrived one year later. Laura was born in Ekalaka, Montana because the family had moved there for Grandpa John’s job. Grandpa John was an oil and gas consultant for Santa Fe Drilling Company, which later led to all of the international (and local) moves. The first big job relocated their family to Maracaibo, Venezuela . At seven years old, my mom packed up her essentials to begin a new life in what was such an unknown, mysterious place in her eyes. While she got to take a few luxury items along with her necessities, she had to leave behind what most seven-year-old girls consider necessities: dolls, playhouses, costume jewelry, etc. The friendly locals warmly welcomed my grandparents, mom, and aunts to Maracaibo, Venezuela, which made the transition from America much easier. The biggest transition was learning to speak Spanish. It was the only way they would ever be able to get around there. They learned Spanish by reading and asking questions. My Grandma Gayle hired a live-in maid to help with the housework and cooking. The maid helped the kids learn Spanish quickly. To the family’s surprise, Maracaibo was rather Americanized, besides the dominance of the Spanish language, of course. Movies were subtitled in English, and American grocery stores were available, but somewhat rare. English was not spoken downtown or at certain stores, so Spanish became a necessity. Because of my mom and her sisters’ young age, they had a difficult time separating English and Spanish for a while. They spoke what some consider “Spanglish.” My grandparents, mom, and aunts lived in Maracaibo for six years. In those six years, the family expanded by two. John was born in 1969, and Danee was born two years later. All of the kids went to American schools and had a pleasant experience with the American teachers. There was an occasional occurrence of locals treating my family differently because of their heritage, but they were friendly for the most part. Americans brought in a lot of oil money, so that made the locals very thankful. My grandparents, and other American oil workers, paid locals for housekeeping and things of the like, so they were also appreciative for that. One summer was spent in Columbia, but my grandparent’s brought their family back to Venezuela after that because Venezuela was much more ahead in everyday things. My grandpa worked in the jungle during his time in Columbia. After converting John and Danee’s Venezuelan birth certificate and passports into American through the American Embassy, my family moved back to the states in 1973. They lived in Louisiana for one year, and Montana for another. My mom and her siblings found it difficult to live in the states. While they felt at home in America, they did not find their place easily with classmates and neighbors. The kids their age found it weird that they had lived over seas and did not understand why they were there. My mom and her siblings still spoke some Spanish at home, although they were fluent in both English and Spanish. The kids around them could not grasp why my family was American in appearance, but their culture and background was so, well, not American. Because my mom and her siblings moved so often, they were not able to keep in touch with their friends. It was hard enough being the new kids with no friends what so ever (because they were all back in Venezuela), but it was even harder with the extra judgment they received because of their suitcase lifestyle. The American experience was a short one. My grandpa started work in Scotland in 1975, so the family followed. Scotland was very dreary, but beautiful in the summertime. It was dark outside when the kids got home from school. The people were very friendly and accepting. They were also very active. The locals shopped for groceries everyday because they liked their food fresh and it was a good excuse to go out. My grandma joined the American Wives’ Club during her time in Scotland. The club was a place for the American women to get together and visit while their husbands were out working. They would catch busses together to tour the towns and sight see. The women found comfort in the fact that they had similar journeys as American families living some place else. My grandpa usually worked two weeks on, and one week off. My grandma would meet with the American Wives’ Club when he was working and the kids were at school, then she would spend his week off doing whatever he wanted to do. My family was only in Scotland for two years before they were relocated to Malta . Their experience in Malta was unlike any of the previous overseas journeys. Rather than being warmly welcomes, my family was given the cold shoulder. The people of Malta were not smiley or touchy with Americans. They felt as though Americans owed them something. My grandma gave an example of how this looks. “I wanted a sewing machine, so I asked my live-in maid at the time if she could go to the store to pick one out. The guy had seen her with me before, so he said, ‘Do you work for that American woman?’ After she said yes, he said, ‘Well here is the price for you, and here is the price for her.” The people in Malta had the attitude that if Americans are on their land, then the Americans had to give them something to remember them by. My Uncle John took an American Tonka truck to Malta and some people tried to take it from him because those particular trucks were not sold in Malta. They thought John owed them his truck since he was living in their territory. My family eventually got tired of living overseas and decided to move back to America. They landed in Oklahoma in 1979, and my mom has been there every since. My grandparents, aunts, and uncle stayed in Oklahoma for a while, but have since moved elsewhere. My mom has established her own family in Oklahoma, and has no plans to move again. Her childhood has taught her to accept everybody because you never know what others have been through. New Mexico Natives...Well, Almost Growing up in a small town called for many vacations for my Grandma Kathy. The town of Forgan, Oklahoma had roughly 428 residents in 1940. My great grandparents, Vivian and Russell Boates, packed up my grandmother and their other two kids for their first vacation in 1936. My Grandma Kathy was only 6 months old at the time. The destination was chosen because of the location and driving distance. The trip from Forgan, Oklahoma to Red River, New Mexico is precisely 496 miles. The beautiful mountains, abundance of trees, and windy roads were nothing like the flat, dry, farming plains back home in Forgan. Red River became their new vacationing spot. They went at least once every other year. As time went on, my Grandma Kathy went on to marry my Grandpa Les. Grandpa Les had been to New Mexico for a Sunday school trip in junior high, but definitely not experienced it like my Grandma Kathy had. My grandma and grandpa took their kids (my dad, John, and my Uncle Stan) to New Mexico for the first time in 1962. Their family went so much that my Great Grandma Vivian bought a condo in 1984 because she decided it was well worth it. The condo still belongs to our family today. In fact, I have been to Red River every Thanksgiving since I was five. We snow ski, sight see, have a Thanksgiving feast, and watch the Macy’s Parade and Bedlam game on TV. My grandparents loved New Mexico so much that they wanted to explore more. They discovered Santa Fe, New Mexico. It was a bigger town, with lots of art galleries, shops, and restaurants. They would go to Red River in the winter and Santa Fe in the summer. This tradition has carried on since then. My brother and I have had the privilege of going with them since we were very young. On one of many trips, my grandparents had heard about the 8 Northern Indian Pueblos Festival . This festival is right outside of Santa Fe every summer. We started going regularly in 1997. The festival featured the eight different pueblo tribes from New Mexico. The Native Americans opened this festival up to the public to share and experience their culture with others. The tribes would take turns performing their native dances and songs. They wore elaborate headdresses, outfits, and moccasins. They made their own drums and instruments out of animal hide and other parts. Booths of Native American jewelry, pottery, art, and anything else you can thing of were set up by rows. My grandparents gave my brother and me a certain amount of money to spend at the booths. Food booths were set up as well. Fry bread was the main staple at the festivals. You could get an Indian taco or fry bread with honey and powdered sugar. They also sold roasted ears of corn. The experience of tapping into the Indian culture was special and one I will never forget. My grandparent’s house is filled with Native American art. My grandmother wears a lot of turquoise and silver that she bought from them. I have not been able to join them on their trips since I have been in college, but I cannot wait to carry on the tradition after I graduate. The Mitchells Grow Away from Farming My Great Grandma Vivian was born in Kansas in 1898. Her family brought her to Oklahoma on a covered wagon in 1901. They were given land by the Homestead Act, which meant that if they took care of and lived on the land for about three months, then it was legally theirs to keep. Vivian’s mother died when she was 21. She went to Canada with her older sister for a little bit while her dad stayed on the farm in Forgan. Vivian met a handsome man named Russell while she was in Canada. They dated for a while, then came back to Oklahoma together. Russell became a farmer with Vivian’s father. The two wed, and had my Grandma Kathy in 1936. Grandma Kathy grew up with two sisters and a brother. They grew up on the farm in Forgan. The kids learned to milk the cows, process the milk, and gather the eggs. Just down the road was a little boy by the name of Les. He was the child of John and Edna Mitchell. John and Tiny had met at a basketball game when their high school teams played each other, Ringwood and Knowles (towns in Oklahoma). They got married in 1934 and moved to Forgan, Oklahoma. They had my Grandpa Les two years later. They moved to California for six years to make a better living because the Depression and the Dust Bowl were happening. My Great Grandpa John was a night watchman at a rock plant. Edna was a housewife. She had two more kids after my grandpa. The family moved back to Forgan, Oklahoma in 1942 where my grandpa attended all 12 years of school. My Grandma Kathy and Grandpa Les met in fifth grade at church. They immediately clicked and remained friends until they were old enough to date. They graduated high school in 1954. My grandma went to OBU to study literature and drama, while my grandpa went to OU to study geology. My grandma transferred to OU the next year to be closer to my grandpa. They got married in 1955, and had their first son, Stan, the next year. My grandma dropped out of school to raise Stan while my grandpa continued his education. They lived in the married housing (aka “Sooner City”) on campus. My dad, John Mitchell, was born in 1958. My grandpa started working at the university cafeteria during school to help pay for things while my grandma took care of the kids. After my grandpa graduated in 1960, their family moved to Midwest City where my grandma and grandpa both accepted jobs at Tinker Air Force Base . My grandparents lived there until 1999. After that, they moved to Oklahoma City to be closer to my brother and me. My Immediate Family My mom, Lisa Morris, met my dad, John Mitchell while working at an oil and gas company called Woods Petroleum in Oklahoma City. They dated for two years, and then got married in 1985. I was born in 1990. My brother, Jaxon, was born two years later. My brother and I grew up playing sports, hanging out with friends, and spending time with our family. Our parents taught us manners, respect, and many other important life lessons that we have carried with us. We are both students at the University of Oklahoma. Jaxon is majoring in Health and Exercise Science, and I am majoring in Advertising. We enjoy snowboarding, going to the movies, trying new restaurants, and playing with our dogs. Who I am Today My family influences have contributed to the person I am today in many ways. My parents come from very different backgrounds. I have been taught to accept everyone for who they are because I have no idea what they are going through. I have also been taught to be open-minded and try new things because there are so many things I could be missing if I pass up an opportunity to experience something new. There is so much more to be discovered. My family has taught be to be strong through everything because anything is possible. No matter what life throws at you, you have to keep living. I am very thankful for my family and what they have been through because it has made me an ambitious, sympathetic, courageous person. Category:Students